


Meg's Gift

by RCs Many Posts (Parker4131970)



Category: due South
Genre: Baby, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-30
Updated: 2013-09-30
Packaged: 2017-12-28 01:41:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/986145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parker4131970/pseuds/RCs%20Many%20Posts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Meg is attacked she must deal with the consequences, one of which is whether or not to transfer to Ottawa, without Ben. When Ben learns that Meg is leaving he confronts her about the reason behind it. Please read and review with kindness as I try to do the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meg's Gift

**Meg's Gift**

I saw him sitting on a bench, a light breeze ruffling his dark hair. He was watching a little girl with long, sable hair playing on the jungle gym. He leaned forward, his spring green eyes following her every movement. I was drawn to him, drawn to the mystery I saw around him. There was such pride in his eyes as he watched the little girl hide behind a maple tree, peeking out at him, giggling. I felt myself moving forward, across the red mulch covering the playground. An early morning fog was burning off as I crossed, trying to get to my destination. Shafts of morning light filtered through the evergreen trees surrounding the the city park. It was a magical atmosphere.

At first I simply stood off to the side, afraid my presence would somehow break the spell. As if I would take a step too far and they would disappear altogether.

It wasn't until the man looked over at me that I realized I'd crossed to within a few yards of the bench where he sat. His intense gaze startled me when our eyes met. Those green eyes were set in a broad, handsome face, a hint of laugh lines decorating his high cheek bones. He looked at me as if he'd seen everything before and I wasn't anything new.

“Hello, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare. You have a beautiful daughter.” I finally managed, embarrassed at my own reaction to him. A twinkle of humor flitted across his face.

“Thank you kindly, she takes after her mother.” He responded, pride in his voice. I glanced across his hands, searching for a wedding band. None.

“Your wife must be a beauty.” I commented as he motioned for me to sit down on the metal bench beside him.

“Oh, I've never been married.” He resumed watching the little girl skip from the slide to the swings. She wore a pair of purple rain boots with pink butterflies across the toes, a pair of jeans and a lavender sweater with a unicorn on the front. Her silky hair was thick and hung in a glossy wave past her waist. She had porcelain doll features and lovely, brown eyes.

“I'm Jacqueline, by the way.” I introduced myself. The words were pulled out of me as if my brain knew the script but I'd missed my cue.

“She's Alice and I'm Benton, pleasure to meet you.” Benton shook my hand politely, then waved at Alice who was laying on her stomach in a swing.

“Where is her mother?” I heard my voice say as if somewhere in the distance. I almost turned to see who'd spoken. Benton turned to me, smiling as if I'd said something funny, something naive.

“Meg died in childbirth.” He answered, sadness in his voice, hollowness in his eyes. I was taken aback by his words.

“I'm so sorry, that's a great loss.” I stammered. Why was I being so nosy? All my life I'd detested nosy people and here I was, being one.

“We've learned to cope.” Benton sighed, his gaze distant.

“You obviously shared a great love.” I tried to sound complimentary as I hitched my thumb toward the happily playing child. Alice waved again, this time sticking her tongue out, teasing her father.

“I've had two great loves in my life. Of the two, Meg Thatcher was the one I would have done anything for; I would gladly have walked through Hell to hold her hand or sold my own soul to save her.” He suddenly seemed much older and more frail than the forty years he appeared. My heart caught in my chest when he turned to me, his eyes haunted with sadness and burden.

“As much as I love Alice, she was Meg's gift to me. I had no part in her.” He swallowed hard.

“How's that?” I asked, eager to hear the story.

_**Chicago, Illinois, Seven Years Ago …** _

_**July …** _

The July heat had been unbearable, even in the Chicago Consulate. Every day for the last two weeks there had been heat warnings, telling people to stay in the air conditioning and to stay hydrated. Meg didn't see how Turnbull and Fraser stood it, both of them wearing their red serge uniforms. She was wearing a pale pink, silk blouse and a tan, light weight, linen skirt. The air conditioner ran but Meg still had a fan blowing on her, perspiration dampening her face, trickling into the creases between her breasts. By five o'clock she was ready to move back to Canada, back to fresh air and cooler temperatures.

“Constable Fraser, I'm expecting a call from headquarters, if they call tell them I'm out for the rest of the day, alright.” Meg fired away after her subordinate officer answered his extension.

“Yes, Sir, have a good evening.” Fraser wished her. Meg could tell that he was standing at his desk, probably with his left hand behind his back as he stared straight ahead, at parade rest even though it was a phone conversation.

“Thank you, Constable, you as well.” Meg hung the phone up, wishing she could find a cool spot somewhere and take a nap. She gathered her purse and brief case then left the red brick building. Traffic in the Windy City was bumper to bumper, nothing moved, not the air, not people, nothing. Meg decided to walk to her apartment, it was only a few blocks from the consulate. People seemed sluggish as the lady Mountie strolled past them. She stopped a few times to enjoy the drafts of air conditioning coming from business' doorways.

It took twice as long in the stiffing heat for Meg to walk home. The usual half hour walk took more than forty-five minutes. By the time she got to within sight of her apartment building, Meg was ready to take a rest. Her sensible pumps felt like combat boots on her feet. She stopped in an alley to adjust her shoes when she saw a young, white man wearing large, aviator sunglasses, a dark t-shirt and a pair of dark nylon, basketball shorts. He seemed to be studying Meg as she stood with one foot resting on her other knee, her free hand on the brick wall beside her. Looking down at her foot, Meg noticed that her silk blouse's V-neck was showing considerably more of her than necessary. Quickly, she stood up and pulled the garment back in place. Damp from sweat, it stuck to her frame like saran wrap. The young man continued to walk nonchalantly toward her, then past her. Once past her, Meg thought nothing more about him. She took a few steps then the world went black.

The next thing Meg remembered was lying on a cold, cement floor, somewhere dark and musty smelling, kind of sour too. Light filtered from overhead, from square windows at least a story above her head. She blinked a few times to adjust her vision to the darkness. Looking around she saw the young man she'd passed in the alley kneeling beside her, watching her. He didn't speak, didn't register any emotion.

“Who are you, what's going on here?” Meg demanded beginning to sit up. The young man still didn't answer. His silence alarmed Meg. He laid one hand on her shoulder and began to push her down again. She struggled, pulling away. The pounding in her head made her fuzzy. She felt him take her by the shoulders and push her down, this time straddling her. He was athletic and had the advantage of being above her. Still, the lady Mountie squirmed, she kicked and tried to get at her attacker's face with her finger nails. The young man didn't utter a sound as he tried to force Meg to be still. When Meg tried to scream for help she felt one of his hands release her shoulder and then close around her throat. Desperate, she elbowed, but nothing would dislodge him. A few seconds of his vice like grip and she was out again.

_**A Few Hours Later …** _

Neon lights outside glowed with an array of colors and words when Meg woke up again. She still lay on the cool cement floor on her back. Through the high windows she could tell that it was after dark. The lady Mountie struggled to sit up, to take stock of herself and what had been done to her. Both of her feet were bare, her skirt had been shoved up around her waist and her blouse was ripped. Nothing was as it should have been. Her heels were bruised, her knees and thighs, the cement had ground her elbows to hamburger and her throat was so sore it was difficult to breathe. Meg pulled herself to her feet and found her shoes, purse and briefcase off to one side. The contents of her wallet had been dumped and her cash stolen. All her credit cards and identification were still intact. Nothing had been touched in her briefcase. Dazed and in pain, Meg gathered her things and, as best she could, pulled her blouse around her frame.

Cars passed on the street outside the warehouse door as Meg tried to figure out where she was. She deliberated whether or not to call the police but she knew the line of questions they'd ask, she'd had to ask them to victims of rape before. Meg didn't want to have to answer them, especially not to some smart ass, Chicago cop. If she reported it, the whole twenty-seventh precinct and Constable Fraser would know. Meg couldn't bear the thoughts of him knowing she'd been attacked, that she was that helpless. She didn't think she could stand to see the pity or maybe avoidance in his eyes, not Fraser's eyes, anyone but Fraser.

Instead, Meg put on her shoes and began walking. Four blocks later she found a cab and gave the driver her address. It was nearly midnight when she got up to her apartment and opened the door. She immediately shut the door and locked it, shoving a kitchen chair beneath the door knob for extra protection. Still a bit in shock but beginning to come back to herself, Meg sat down on her living room floor and began to cry. She felt like she'd been punished for something, but she couldn't figure out what. A million things began going through her mind; what if she'd taken a cab home, what if she'd stayed later at the consulate, what if she'd worn a more modest outfit, what if's by the dozen.

Eventually, Meg made her way to the bathroom. She slipped out of her blouse and put it in the trash can, followed by her undergarments and her skirt. She looked in the mirror at her bruised and raw body. The sight of it made her shudder. Meg turned on the shower and stepped inside, the hot water running down her body, making her as red as a lobster. She began washing her face, running the wash cloth over her eyes as if she could wash away the sight of her attacker hovering over her. In a frenzy, she began washing everything, head to toe, using a vast quantity of soap, until her skin was nearly raw from scrubbing and the heat from the water. Meg sank into the tub in a fetal ball, water streaming down on her as she sobbed. Nothing felt real, everything felt like a bad nightmare she couldn't make herself wake from. When the water turned cold and she began to shiver from exhaustion and nerves, Meg got out and wrapped up in her purple, terry cloth robe. She didn't bother to brush her hair or anything. She just laid down on the bed and lay there until sleep took her somewhere else.

_**The Next Morning …** _

The buzzing of her alarm woke Meg the next morning. She'd been awake for the past few minutes, deciding her next move. She didn't want Fraser or anyone else to be suspicious of her, for them to think anything was wrong. The only way around it was to get up, go to the office and act like nothing had happened. She didn't know how she was supposed to do that, with the bruises around her throat and the soreness, but it was the only course of action she felt she could take.

Meg dragged herself out of bed and dressed for the day. She applied a generous amount of concealer and make-up, trying to hide the hand print around her neck. Then she chose a light, white blouse with three quarter length sleeves and an ankle length skirt. To look at her, one would think that nothing was amiss with Inspector Margaret Thatcher. One would be sorely wrong.

She took a cab to the consulate, taking her sweet time getting up the steps. Turnbull greeted her with his usual exuberance, handing her the phone message Fraser had took from Ottawa the previous evening. Meg gave him an icy stare and went into her office.

 _Inspector General Southerby would be delighted to have you on his staff, consider this a standing offer_.

Meg read the message twice before she sat down at her desk. Inspector General Southerby was an old acquaintance from her early days with the RCMP. Meg had been assigned to his security detail. He would help her further her career and didn't seem to be the kind to ask for anything in return. It was a dream come true. As low as Meg felt, her heart soared with the offer.

TAP, TAP, TAP. Meg's heart plateaued when she heard Fraser's distinctive wrap at the office door.

“Come in.” She said low, her voice raspy. Fraser opened the door, poking his head in before the rest of him, as if trying to decide if he'd be eaten or greeted.

“I see you've received the phone message you were waiting on, Inspector.” Fraser crossed the office and came to stand at her desk.

“Yes, thank you, Constable Fraser.” Meg's voice was like grinding breaks on an eighteen wheeler. She looked up at him with her signature annoyed expression.

“Very well, Sir.” He was dying to know if she were leaving, Meg could tell. She didn't know herself just yet.

“Was there anything else, Constable Fraser?” Meg said, her throat feeling like someone were ripping the lining out.

“Have you got a summer cold, Sir, you sound different.” Fraser's brow knit in concern, his eyes searching her face.

“Yes.” She didn't elaborate.

“Perhaps a cup of tea then?” Fraser offered, trying to remember how she took her tea.

“Thank you kindly, Constable Fraser.” Meg nodded, wishing his name were shorter so she could quit talking sooner.

Twenty minutes later the Mountie returned with a tray of milk, sugar, tea and Oreo sandwich cookies, along with a single cup and saucer. It seemed such a waste just for her.

“Would you like anything else, Sir?” Fraser asked, concerned with the dark circles around her lovely, brown eyes and how tired she looked. Meg simply nodded, shooing him out with one hand. Fraser left.

“Constable Fraser, have you read this morning's _Chicago Sun-Times_?” Turnbull asked as the other Mountie walked by his desk, distracted.

“No, I haven't, why?” Fraser turned around to see the front page of the paper. 'The Heatwave Rapist', crossed the page in bold type.

“There have been seven attacks since the heatwave began two weeks ago. Police suspect there may be more, unreported cases. It says that the rapist chooses the same type of victim; petite, shoulder length dark hair, dark eyes, always wearing a dress or skirt.” Turnbull filled him in. A composite sketch had been printed beneath the article of a man wearing aviator sunglasses with short, dark hair and a clean shaven face.

“I've heard Ray speak of this case.” Fraser picked the paper up to read for himself. “The article says that the last reported attack took place just three blocks from here.”

“I hope they catch the suspect soon, I'd hate to think of what the victims are going through.” Turnbull sympathized.

“Yes, quite. Perhaps we should make certain that if the Inspector walks home one of us accompanies her.” Fraser suggested.

“I agree, though she's certainly capable of taking care of herself.” The junior Mountie smiled, thinking that if her self defense skills were half as intimidating as her everyday attitude an attacker wouldn't stand a chance.

“She is, yes, but there is safety in numbers.” Fraser added, laying the newspaper on the desk and returning to his weekly reports.

_**That Evening …** _

Meg's head had been elsewhere all day, thinking of what had happened to her. She wondered what she should do about it. She had been physically and mentally violated. Someone should answer for it. Reporting it meant that everyone would know and she couldn't tolerate the thoughts of that.

Then Meg thought of other consequences of the attack. She determined to go to an after hours clinic and be tested for sexually transmitted diseases that very evening, if she could stay awake long enough. Mostly the lady Mountie wanted to fast forward time to a place where she'd feel safe and whole again. She didn't see that happening any time soon.

Five o'clock came around and Meg dialed Fraser's extension to give him last minute instructions.

“Constable Fraser, please have your weekly reports ready for me in the morning. I'm leaving for the evening.” Meg sighed, her throat still hurting.

“Very well, Sir.” she began to hang up the phone. “Oh, Inspector, are you taking a cab or walking this evening?” Fraser's question caught her off guard.

“I'm taking a cab, Fraser, why do you ask?” her voice broke halfway through his name.

“With the recent attacks in the newspaper I thought that perhaps Turnbull or myself could accompany you to your building.” The Mountie sounded a bit anxious.

Panic seized Meg, “Did he suspect something?”, she wondered.

“I'll be fine, Constable Fraser, thank you.” She hung up and gathered her things for the cab ride home. She called the company and by the time she was out on the stoop a yellow, Gemini cab was waiting for her. It would be the first of many evenings that Fraser would watch her get into a cab after work and disappear into rush hour traffic.

_**August ….** _

Heat is a funny thing, you never really get used to it. Meg certainly didn't. After the attack she began to dress differently, preferring slacks and collared blouses over her usual mini skirts and silks. Fraser noticed the difference in her demeanor quickly. She was more nervous and shorter tempered, if possible. Something was going on but he didn't know how to ask her and she certainly wasn't forthcoming about it. Even Dief noticed. The wolf smelled anxiety all over the lady Mountie.

By the end of August, Meg had taken to staying at the consulate later and later, often leaving after dark. She would hole up in her office, only darting out to the rest room or to the kitchen. Each time Fraser offered to escort her home, Meg refused. She just didn't seem like herself. He'd heard her several times in the lavatory retching. Ever the gentleman, he didn't say anything. Meg wasn't losing weight and he hadn't noticed a change in her eating habits, except that she ate more ice cream. He attributed that to the heatwave.

Still, her change in behavior worried him. He didn't know if it was his place to worry about her but he did anyway. She was alone in the city and kept entirely too much to herself. Fraser noted that the occasional, personal phone calls hadn't been answered and Meg hadn't made any either. Fraser kept his silence, watching her closely.

_**September …** _

“Meg, I'm glad you're coming to join my staff, I've been waiting patiently for you to accept.” Southerby's voice rumbled as he spoke. She could just see the gray haired gentleman seated at his desk, a huge painting of the queen behind him, peering serenely down at them both.

“I appreciate your patience, George. It will take me a few weeks to wrap things up here in Chicago. I should be there by the end of the month.” Meg hated leaving the consulate. More truthfully, she hated leaving Fraser. It hadn't been lost on her that he was concerned about her. She saw the way he watched her, his brows knit, unspoken questions on his mind. Meg thought it was better this way though. She didn't want to think about his reaction if he knew that she was expecting a child, or how that child had been conceived. It was just too cruel. Somewhere in the back of Meg's imagination she'd always thought that she'd have his child. She dreamed of sharing a life with him. Now she would bear the responsibility of this child alone.

“I'll have one of my clerks find you a suitable apartment if you'd like, Meg. I know how hard it is to make all those arrangements and work too.” Southerby offered.

“I've already contacted a realtor, but thank you for your thoughtfulness.” Meg hated to think of one of the subordinate officers doing such a menial tasks as finding her an apartment. She'd had to do things like that in her career.

“As you wish, Meg, let me know if there's anything you need.” Southerby offered before saying good-bye.

Meg hung up feeling both excited to be going back to Ottawa and sad to leave Chicago and Fraser. She hadn't felt safe in the city since her attack. Logically, Meg knew that a city the size of Ottawa had just as much crime as anywhere else. Still, it wasn't until coming to Chicago that she'd been brutally raped. The city would always have an ominous feeling for her.

After lunch, Meg decided that she needed to tell Fraser and Turnbull the news. She rehearsed what she planned on saying. It all sounded like excuses. At a loss for words, she decided to simply tell them and they would take it as they took it. She dialed their extensions, summoning both Mounties to her office.

“You wished to see us, Inspector Thatcher?” Turnbull asked when Fraser arrived.

“Have a seat please.” Meg motioned to the two chairs across the desk from her. Both men sat down, ill at ease at her sudden summoning.

“I asked you both in here to tell you that I'll be leaving the Chicago Consulate by the end of the month, I'll be joining Inspector General Southerby's staff.” Meg laid it out straight, making no excuses and giving no reasons.

Turnbull was shocked, his world rocked to the core. His blue eyes widened.

“That's wonderful, Sir, spots on his staff are hard to come by.” Turnbull rambled on, as excited as if it were him it was happening to. Fraser was silent, his keen eyes studying Meg.

“Congratulations, Sir.” He finally said when Turnbull settled down.

“Thank you both, it's been an honor to have served with you.” Meg took a deep breath to keep from crying. She almost wanted to call Southerby and tell him that she wanted to stay in Chicago, that she'd made a mistake. She saw the sorrowful way Fraser looked at her. Meg knew that she was breaking his heart as surely as she was breaking her own.

Both Mounties shuffled off to their duties when Meg dismissed them, both of them wondering different things. Fraser wondered why it was she was leaving. Turnbull wondered who the new Inspector would be.

_**Later That Evening …** _

Turnbull left at his usual six o'clock, leaving Fraser in his office with Dief and Meg in her office alone. Fraser had been lost in thought since Meg's announcement. He turned it over in his mind from every direction. He had one theory that he hoped proved untrue. Finally, at nine, when she hadn't left yet, he determined to ask her about it.

“Inspector Thatcher, may I come in?” Fraser had tapped on the door. Inside he heard her blow her nose quietly and the sound of the desk drawer closing.

“Come in, Constable.” Meg called, leaning her elbows on her desk, the overhead lights off. Only her desk lamp illuminated the office around her desk.

“I wished to speak of your transfer, Sir.” Fraser began, smoothing his eyebrow with his thumbnail. His dark hair needed a trim, feather light curls peeking out behind his ears.

“What of it, Constable Fraser?” Meg immediately went on the defense.

“Is it because of the child you're carrying?” Ben watched as she laid a reassuring hand on her stomach, her eyes wide at his bold statement.

“My transfer is none of your concern, Constable Fraser.” She stood up, moving her hand as soon as she realized what she'd done.

“I wasn't certain if my hypothesis was correct, but now I see it was.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, his intense gaze never wavering. Meg didn't know if she could stand up to that gaze he fixed her with so often. He could see right through her and her facade.

“And your hypothesis would be?” Meg charged, crossing her arms over her chest as she rounded the desk. The shadows in the room hid half of Fraser's face as he turned to stand toe-toe with her.

“My hypothesis is that the second week of July, as you were walking home, you were attacked by a white male, approximately twenty-five, he proceeded to force himself on you, leaving you with several bruises and contusions, including a hand print around your throat.” Fraser tilted his head to one side as he spoke, his tone dispassionate and cold.

“Preposterous, Constable, really.” Meg scoffed, avoiding his gaze. Her heart beat hard in her chest. He knew her too well.

“I've watched your behavior change, Inspector, your manner of dress, the way you always take a cab home, you don't walk to the corner coffee shop anymore and you've begun staying at the consulate until late into the evening. You've tried to hide it. You feel unsafe except at the consulate, you try to detract attention from yourself and I can only imagine the emotional pain.” Fraser's tone softened as he pressed onward. He saw her resolve beginning to waver.

“I'm fine, Constable Fraser, Inspector General Southerby has been after me for months now to join his staff, that's all.” Meg tried to sound strong. She wanted to believe that she wasn't running scared.

“A strong tree will break in the storm, it's the tree that bends that survives and thrives.” Fraser stepped closer. Meg could smell his warm, soapy scent and leather polish from his Sam Brown belt and high browns. Meg couldn't deny the truth, he'd seen through her guise.

“You never bend, Constable.” Meg said softly, her dark eyes nearly tearing up.

“You haven't seen me in a storm either.” He responded.

Meg sat down on the sofa in the cozy end of her office. She switched on the lamp beside her on the end table. She held her face between her hands, so tired suddenly. Fraser sat down beside her and waited for her to begin. He saw her shoulders quake after a bit. The Mountie pulled out his clean handkerchief and handed it to her. Meg took it and dabbed at her eyes.

“I was wearing my pink, silk blouse with the cranberry red buttons. You told me that red suited me.” She chuckled, thinking back to the days when she planned her wardrobe in hopes of an appreciative look from him.

“It does suit you.” Fraser complimented her. He hadn't seen her wear anything red in nearly three months.

“I saw the man pass me by, staring at me, then next thing I know I'm lying on a warehouse floor and he's hovering over me, watching me with those sunglasses on. I fought back, Fraser, but he was stronger. He never spoke a word, he just pushed me down. I still feel so dirty.” Meg shivered, her frame quaking with emotion. She felt Fraser's gentle hand on her back. He pulled her to his side, fitting her to his solid body as she tried not to sob. Images of that night filled her vision. It was as if it were happening to her again.

“It's alright, you're safe.” He stroked her upper arm, shushing her as he rocked her back and forth like a little girl.

“I couldn't stand the thoughts of reporting it, of having everyone know that something so horrific had happened to me. If they know it that makes it real. Now you know and that just makes it so much worse.” Meg stammered out through a sob, her teeth clenched to keep from exploding, from flying off in a billion, tiny pieces.

“I could have helped had you told me sooner. You would have had my complete discretion, no one would have known.” He whispered near her ear as he stared into the distance. Fraser felt something he rarely felt, the urge to violence. He wished he could find the creep that had done this to Meg and make him pay dearly for it. Ben had to take a deep breath to rein himself in. He couldn't imagine the terror and pain Meg had gone through that day or everyday since.

“I couldn't bear the looks you would have given me, like I was going to break or the pity in your eyes, Fraser, I can't have you see me that way. That isn't who I am.” Meg sat up, wiping her face with his handkerchief. She stared into the darkness surrounding the sofa, dark thoughts running through her mind.

Fraser reached out and turned her face to meet his gaze. She saw the anger in his features, the green of his eyes like a flame in the dim room.

“You are a strong, smart and beautiful woman; a survivor. I admire you for those qualities. Each day I see your strength.” He spoke firmly. “I still remember that your heart beats like mine, that you're not made of stone.” Fraser paraphrased what he'd told her atop that train months ago.

“I'm not always strong, Fraser. If I'd been smarter I would have known that bastard was going to rape me.” Meg pulled away. How could he say such things after knowing the truth about her?

“It wasn't your fault, Margaret, bad things happen to good people.” Ben insisted, he'd spent too much time wondering about the things in his life that had caught him unaware; his mother's death, his grand father's first stroke, his grandmother's heart attack, Victoria.

“How would you know, Fraser, you weren't there when it happened, you weren't there when I needed you.” Meg choked on the tail end of her statement. She saw him wince. Meg immediately wanted to take it back.

“I'm sorry, Fraser.” Meg leaned back against the sofa, tired and spent.

“I shouldn't have pushed.” Fraser stood up, too many things spinning around in his mind.

“Don't leave, Fraser.” Meg took a deep breath, collecting herself. Fraser sat back down. They sat in silence.

“I just need space, Fraser, to get away from this city.” Meg began, “No matter where I turn, I see his face, I feel his hands on me.” Tears began to stream down her face. The lady Mountie turned away from him, not wanting Fraser to see her continue to break down.

“Let me know if you need anything.” Fraser sat leaned forward, ready to bolt.

“Thank you, Fraser.” Meg wiped her face and sat up straight. She wanted desperately for him to pull her close again and tell her everything would be alright.

He stood up to leave, hating to see her so broken. She'd pushed him away-again. What could he do?

“Fraser, I mean it, thank you, for everything.” Meg reached out and took him by the hand. Ben turned, looking down into her brown eyes. The dim light made her seem young, very young and very fragile.

“Don't hesitate.” Ben squeezed her fingers gently. He hated that it took something as bad as this for her to let him in.

“I won't, Mounties' honor.” She gave him a weak smile, tears still in her voice. Ben gave her a smile.

_**The Last Week In September ….** _

Meg had put the last of her things in packing boxes and shipped them to Ottawa. Now she just had to say good-bye and take her luggage to O' Hare Airport. Turnbull had breakfast muffins and tea ready when she arrived. He had hand crafted a farewell card for her as well. Meg was glad to see that it was just her officers there to see her off, that Ray and the gang hadn't tagged along. Fraser had promised that he wouldn't tell anyone what had happened. She saw how it pained him to leave the matter alone but he respected her wishes.

“When does your flight leave, Ma'am?” Turnbull asked as he served muffins and tea in the sitting room.

“Eleven o'clock, I'll need to be at the airport earlier.” Meg checked her watch, nine o'clock. She hated leaving but didn't like sticking around, feeling the awkwardness of her last day.

“I'll accompany you, if you'll allow me to.” Fraser volunteered. He'd been quiet since the night he'd confronted her about leaving.

“Thank you, Constable Fraser.” Meg nodded. She wished there wasn't this distance between them. He didn't look at her with pity or disdain, but he didn't say anything either.

“It's been a pleasure to work with you, Inspector Thatcher.” Turnbull added. Meg nearly choked on her muffin at his words. She'd been a pure witch to him for most of her time at the consulate. He'd picked up her dry cleaning, her groceries, and made more than his fair share of coffee runs.

“Thank you, _(choke)_ , thank you, Constable Turnbull.” Meg had to sip her tea to recover herself.

_**Later ….** _

Meg sat at her desk, looking through the drawers for anything she might have missed. Other than a stray bobby bin, there was nothing left. Chicago didn't have anything for her either. The realtor had found her an apartment near headquarters, one in a secured building. A few other officers and RCMP personnel lived there as well. Meg felt positive about moving. The only draw back was that Fraser would be so far away. She couldn't imagine reporting to work in the mornings and not seeing his pleasant expression or him asking if she wanted anything. He'd always tried to take care of her, as much as she would allow him to, which was very little. It was Meg's biggest regret.

TAP, TAP, TAP, came the Mountie's distinct wrap on her door, for the last time.

“Come in, Constable Fraser.” Meg beckoned him. She swallowed the emotion threatening to betray her.

“Inspector, are you ready to leave for the airport?” Ben asked quietly. He felt like he was walking to the gallows.

“As ready as I'll ever be I suppose.” Meg tried to sound cheerful but failed miserably, even to her ears.

Fraser came around the desk, offering her his arm to escort her to the waiting Lincoln. She smiled and accepted wordlessly. Together they walked out of the consulate and down the steps.

O' Hare Airport is the busiest airport in the United States, especially the day Meg was to fly back home to Ottawa. People were headed in every direction imaginable, dressed in every sort of get up from jeans to togas. They pushed and shoved, trying to get to their destinations as if every one of them were late.

Fraser parked the car in a space somewhere out in the back forty acres. Meg was sure it was on purpose. He wanted to linger as much as she did. Still, the Inspector in her came out.

“Constable Fraser, of all the parking spots at this airport, you chose the one furthest away, why?” Her annoyed tone sounded like it always did.

Fraser turned in the driver's seat to look at her, his eyes intense and they surveyed her. Meg's heart beat sped up.

“Don't leave Chicago.” He said out of the blue. Meg almost didn't believe she'd heard him correctly. “Stay at the consulate, let me take care of you and the child, Margaret.” He continued.

“Fraser, I can't, I've already accepted the transfer, everything I own has been shipped to Ottawa already.” Meg stammered, dumbfounded. Never in a million years did she think that he'd ever ask her to stay.

“Stay because you want to stay with me.” His eyes were locked onto hers, pleading with her to change her mind. Meg scooted forward on the big back seat.

“I do want to stay with you, Fraser, I just can't do it in Chicago. I need a fresh start, time to learn how to feel safe and whole again. To feel like myself again. I'm sorry.” Meg reached out to touch his face, to make sure he was really there in front of her, asking her to stay.

“May I contact you then?” Ben asked, clinging to a sliver of hope that she may change her mind once she got to Ottawa.

“Yes, I'd like that.” Meg smiled, desperately wishing she could take him with her. Slowly, he got out and came around to open the door for her. She could see the sadness in his features, the way he held himself, the way he studied the wide open ground beyond the airport, planes sitting in wait. Together they walked into the terminal and checked her baggage. Neither of them said anything. Meg took her place in the waiting area for her flight, staring out the window at the towers and city skyline beyond.

“Flight Sixty-seven to Ottawa now boarding.” came over the loud speaker. Meg stood up and shouldered her purse. Fraser touched her shoulder. Quickly, she turned around, right into Ben's arms. He pulled her close and their lips met for the second time. People around them trying to board became a gray blur as time slowed down and the rest of the world ceased to exist. Reality hung suspended like an astronaut in space, neither on the floor nor on the ceiling, just hovering in the gulf between the two.

“Last call for flight Sixty-seven.” The lady's monotone voice broke the spell. Reluctantly, the pair came up for air.

“I love you, Fraser.” Meg whispered softly in his ear as she settled back down on her feet. To her surprise, she heard him respond, “I love you, Meg.” She felt his breath on her skin before he pressed one last kiss on her cheek.

“Call me tomorrow.” He turned loose of her as people pushed past, trying to board the plane.

“I will, promise.” Meg nodded as she stepped backward. She walked away, turning while she could still see him to wave. Her heart broke when he waved back, a beautiful, red statue standing in a flurry of grays and dull blues. From her window seat on the plane she could still see him standing beside the window, watching her plane.

“Do you need a Kleenex, honey?” An older woman seated beside her pulled out a travel size package from her purse and offered them to Meg.

“Yes, thank you.” Meg accepted the tissue and dabbed at her soaked eyes.

“I saw you and that fella with the fancy, red suit on as I was boarding, he your husband or something?” The older, African-American woman asked, trying to make conversation.

“No, he and I aren't married.” Meg answered, still focused on the small, red figure in the window.

“The way you two kissed, you should be.” The woman chuckled.

“I would say 'yes' if he asked.” Meg almost whispered. All her reasons for leaving suddenly became muddled. She wanted to get out of her seat and walk off the plane.

“I should have done a lot of things in my time, but the best thing I ever did was raise my babies, all three of them. They're the ones paying for my flight to Ottawa to see my brother. My oldest is a doctor, my middle baby is a teacher and my youngest don't know what he wants to be, he's still in college.” Meg heard the woman's words clearly. She knew that she had to do what was right for her just now in order to take care of her baby. In Ottawa she could put the rape behind her and focus on what had to happen next.

_**March ….** _

Meg was on medical restriction; bed rest. She'd barely gotten to work when the trouble started. High blood pressure kept her feeling tired and dazed. Meg ate as the doctor prescribed, tried to rest, but nothing she did made her blood pressure lower. The only thing that made her feel better was reading the letters she received from Fraser every week. Some letters were heavy, costing nearly double for him to mail them. He wrote sometimes every day, asking her how she was, telling her about things at the consulate and around the precinct with Ray and the gang. Meg read and re-read the letters, absorbing as much of him as she could from his letters. They smelled like him even. She loved to read his old fashioned long hand. He was a stickler for detail, his letters never had a mistake in spelling or grammar. That was Fraser.

The end of his letters made her long to be held by him. He told her how much he missed her and how lonely the nights were without her roaming around in her office down the hall. Seeing 'I love you', in his handwriting for the first time took her breath away.

They talked on the phone, but not as often as they wrote letters back and forth. There was something so intimate about letter writing. As reserved as Fraser was in person, his letters were like nothing Meg had ever read. They were poetic and thoughtful. She could see what he described as if she were looking at it in person. Below his signature was always a quote, something different every letter. Meg cherished Ben's letters.

In the middle of March Meg opened one of his letters and read it quickly the first time. He said he would be arriving in Ottawa on the sixteenth. Meg checked the calendar, it was the day before St. Patrick's Day. Frantic, she began trying to tidy her apartment up. She had just stowed her dirty cereal bowl in the sink when she heard his distinctive wrap on her front door.

“Come in, Constable Fraser.” Meg called out of force of habit. She settled down on the sofa before he caught her on her feet. He opened the door and popped his head inside just like he'd always done.

“Fraser come in, I won't bite.” Meg waved him into her apartment. She realized that it was the first time he'd ever been in her house.

“Margaret, hello.” He stepped inside, slipping out of his ruck sack and setting it on the floor near the door. He crossed the living room floor in two strides, kneeling on the floor in front of her. Meg slipped her arms around him, glad to be able to.

“I've missed you so much, Ben.” She whispered as she felt him run his fingers through her hair.

“I couldn't stay away any longer, I had to see you for myself.” the Mountie pulled back, his hands holding her's as he studied her face. Meg was tired.

“I just received your letter a little while ago. I wasn't expecting you.” She smiled, patting her mountainous belly.

“I arrived as soon as possible. How are you feeling?” His gaze took her in from her shoulder length, dark hair, her doe-like, brown eyes and the easy smile he'd rarely gotten to see in Chicago.

“Oh, like a beached whale.” Meg laid her hands on her stomach. She felt her daughter kick. “Feel this.” She pulled Fraser's hand to the spot where the baby's foot protruded.

“Amazing.” Fraser breathed, full of wonder.

“Yes, it is, isn't it.” Meg laid her hand on his. They both felt the baby move for a moment, sharing a happy silence.

“How long are you staying, Fraser?” Meg asked when the baby settled down.

“I'm not certain yet, I hadn't thought that far actually.” Ben pondered for a moment.

“I'm glad you're here, Ben.” Meg itched to touch him, to feel his arms around her. It had been a long, lonely six months without him. Her hands began to tremble and her breathing increased. Fraser saw her color rise.

“Are you alright, Meg, what's going on?” The happiness in Ben's features turned to concern.

“I've been having a problem with high blood pressure, I'm fine.” She waved him away.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Ben brushed an errant strand of hair behind her ear, his gently touch tickling her cheek.

“You being here is a great help, Ben.” Meg smiled, trying to pretend that her heartbeat wasn't thumping in her ears and she didn't feel sluggish.

“Perhaps you should lay down and rest.” Fraser suggested, standing up. Meg let him help her to her feet and into the bedroom. She'd tossed her comforter over the bed, not bothering to make it properly. It surprised the Mountie to see a double wedding ring quilt spread across the queen sized bed. Fraser helped Meg ease into the bed, on top of the quilt. She didn't care that her bed was a mess, she was just glad Fraser was there.

Once settled, Fraser turned to leave the bedroom. Meg raised up, “Don't go.” she called as he got level with the door frame. Ben stepped right back to her bed side.

“Did you need something?” He asked, concerned that he'd missed something.

“I need you, and right here.” Meg patted the space beside her in the big bed. Without a word, Ben slipped out of his Sam Brown belt, lanyard, and red tunic. A minute later he was in his sock feet and lying beside Meg in the bed.

“It shouldn't have taken something like this to pull us together.” Meg said, laying her head on Ben's shoulder.

“I agree.” The Mountie sighed. He'd been up for almost forty-eight hours, trying to get things ready for the trip and then the trip itself.

“I've left too many things unsaid, things I regret not saying.” Meg felt his body shift as Ben turned on his side to look at her.

“Such as?” He gazed into her brown eyes, fringed by midnight colored lashes.

“That I've always respected and admired you, how you help others and never expect anything in return. That I was wrong to be so petty with you and Constable Turnbull.” Meg pressed a kiss against his lips as they lay face to face. Fraser deepened the kiss, his eyes closing as he breathed her in. He couldn't believe that they'd almost come one hundred and eighty degrees from their first encounter in Chicago.

“No room for regrets now.” He ran his hand over her cheek, stroking her soft hair.

“Only love.” Meg smiled, feeling the wonderful presence of the child still growing inside. A few minutes later Ben fell asleep, his forehead against Meg's as she nestled into his embrace. For a while the world wasn't such a scary place anymore and she didn't feel so lonely or hopeless.

_**Three Days Later …** _

“Fraser, I'm ready, is the cab here yet?” Meg called as she slipped into her navy pea coat. It didn't button anymore but it wasn't that cold out either. The Mountie stood at the window, looking down at the street below. A taxi van pulled up to the curb and honked the horn.

“They're here. We're going to be early for your appointment.” Fraser grabbed his leather jacket from the sofa and walked down the hall to Meg's bed room. The smaller bedroom to the left was painted in light blues, lavender and mint green with Winnie the Pooh border. Fraser didn't know how Meg had done it by herself, but she had. He admired her independent streak.

“Early's fine, I've yet to waddle down the hallway, get on the elevator and make it to the van.” Meg huffed as she took her purse off the peg near the door. “I feel like a penguin.” she fussed.

“But you're beautiful.” Fraser complimented with a teasing smile.

“A beautiful penguin, is that what you're saying?” Meg turned on him as she opened the front door.

“Yes, you're a beautiful penguin.” Ben played along with the joke. He slipped his hand to the small of her back as he pulled his Stetson on.

“Okay, just for that, you get to carry our next baby.” Meg handed him the keys to lock the door.

“If that's how you want it, I will.” He shrugged, letting loose with a rare laugh.

_**The Doctor's Office …** _

Meg sat in the waiting room, trying to finish a crossword puzzle but she couldn't concentrate. She'd had a headache for what seemed like forever, it kept her awake. The pounding of her heartbeat in her ears hadn't gotten any better either. The lady Mountie still felt tired and sluggish. Since Fraser had arrived he'd taken over the apartment; cooking, cleaning and grocery shopping while Meg rested. She fussed at him that he was a guest but she secretly reveled in the attention.

“It's too hot in here, I'm burning up.” Meg had already removed her pea coat and had on an oversized t-shirt with her maternity slacks. She had long since quit caring if she looked good or not, she was clean and presentable, that's all that mattered.

“Would you like a cup of water?” Ben raised up, ready to fetch a paper cone of water from the cooler on the opposite end of the waiting room.

“No, no thank you.” Meg used a brochure about diapers to fan with for a few minutes. “Yes, get me a drink of water.” She sighed, wishing the pounding in her ears would stop. Fraser rose and crossed the room full of pregnant women, all of them eying him appreciatively and Meg as if she were the plague for having him on her arm.

Meg's head pounded and when she tried to talk to Ben the words didn't sound right. She took a deep breath, her eyes blurring. The diaper brochure hit the floor when Meg passed out. Fraser dropped the paper cup of water on the floor, dashing across the waiting room to Meg's still form.

“I need help.” Ben shouted, sending the nurses from the back rushing toward the front.

“What happened?” A plump nurse with thick glasses and short, gray hair asked as she began checking Meg's vitals.

“Her blood pressure has been elevated.” Fraser went on to explain.

“They're on their way to take her to the hospital now.” Another, younger nurse spoke. Fraser held Meg's head, trying to wake her up, to recognize him, anything. She struggled to come around, her dark eyes blinking quickly.

“Fraser, where's Fraser?” Her words were slurred, but understandable.

“I'm here, Meg, I'm right here, don't worry.” He perched on the seat beside her, letting her head rest on his shoulder.

“Take care of the baby if I don't make it, promise.” she found his face with her right hand.

“I will, Meg, I promise, but you'll be fine.” He swallowed hard, terrified of what was happening. Just an hour ago they'd been joking back and forth. Meg's words were harsh and clumsy.

“Promise, you'll be her father, you'll raise Alice smart and sweet like you, with character.” The nurses looked at each other, both concerned. The older one stood up and gave Meg's obstetrician, Dr. Jannelle Ryan, a report on what had happened.

“I love you, Fraser, promise, you'll take care of her.” Meg struggled to make herself understood.

“I promise, Meg, I'll take care of her, of both of you.” Fraser's voice broke, tears filled his eyes, blurring his vision as he pressed a kiss against her forehead.

“The EMT's are here, Sir.” The older nurse had to pry Fraser away from Meg so that the emergency workers could get to her.

“Sir, the ambulance will be going to Mercy General, I'm going with them, meet us there.” Dr. Ryan, a tall, slender woman took Fraser by the shoulders and re-directed his attention. Then she took off after the stretcher.

“Did you drive?” The older nurse asked, laying a pudgy hand on Fraser's arm. He shook his head no.

“Casey, I'm going to drive him, I'll be back later.” The older nurse called back to the younger nurse who seemed rather lost.

“Be careful.” Casey wished her.

Fraser let the older nurse usher him to the parking structure. They got into a full size, Ford pick-up and began the two mile trip to the hospital.

“I'm Shirley, but the way, you're Fraser, right?” The nurse asked, as she made hairpin turns entirely too fast.

“Yes, Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.” Ben answered out of force of habit.

“I've heard Ms. Thatcher talk about you.” Shirley said, trying to distract the distraught Mountie. Ben looked at her, surprised by the tidbit.

“I got the feeling she missed you dearly.” The pudgy nurse smiled. In moments Shirley had pulled the Ford into the parking lot near the emergency room. She dropped out of the truck and, on her short legs, hurried toward the entrance. They were just taking Meg back into the emergency room when Ben arrived. Dr. Ryan was shouting orders to the staff streaming out of the emergency room. Ben started to follow. The lean obstetrician turned and stopped him.

“I'm sorry, Sir, but she's going directly into surgery, you'll have to wait.” She shrugged apologetically then turned to follow the disappearing gurney. Ben was left lost and clueless. Shirley came up behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Dr. Ryan is a good one, Son, Ms. Thatcher will be fine.” She beckoned Fraser to follow her to the waiting room for surgery.

_**Several Hours Later …** _

“It's a girl!” Nurse Shirley said when they wheeled the bassinet out labeled: Thatcher/Fraser. Ben's eyes lit up.

“I'll see if you can go into recovery.” Shirley left Ben alone at the viewing window. Babies laid in rows two deep and ten foot across. Ben saw Meg's daughter squirm, a pink cap covering a full head of dark hair. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Ben couldn't have loved her more if he and Meg had conceived her.

“Alice.” Ben murmured as he stared through the glass.

“You can see her, but don't be long.” Shirley walked him into the recovery room. Meg lay propped up on a gurney, oxygen pressed into her nostrils and an IV drip started in her arm.

“Meg, she's beautiful, our baby girl is beautiful.” He took her free hand, stooping down. Ben kissed the back of her hand.

“Constable Fraser, is it?” Dr. Ryan came out into the recovery room, she looked like she'd just walked down seven miles of bad road.

“Yes, ah, Doctor?” He tried to remember her name.

“Dr. Ryan. Meg is in stable condition as of right now, we had to deliver the baby via C-section.” The doctor took a deep breath, exhausted.

“What happened exactly?” Fraser asked, anxious to know.

“I can give you a long, complicated medical term or just the facts.” Dr. Ryan wiped her brow.

“Facts please.” Fraser held his Stetson in his hand, moving it in slow circles.

“She had a major stroke.” She saw him trying to process the information.

“Meg said that her blood pressure had been high.” Fraser had never asked her any more details. “Will she recover?” Ben wondered how much mobility she would regain.

“It's unlikely Meg will ever recover.” Dr. Ryan broke the news to him as best she could. “Her mental function has declined, it's only a matter of time.” She hated telling him that the woman he so obviously loved was dying.

“I don't understand, she's such a strong woman.” Ben tried to come to grips with this. It just didn't seem real.

“I'm sorry.” Dr. Ryan's voice was soft. She didn't know Meg very well, but she could tell that she cared fiercely for the baby.

“Shirley, I'm glad you came.” The doctor spoke to the short woman behind Fraser. “Take him to see the baby while they get her into ICU.”

“Come on, Constable, let's go look at your baby girl.” Shirley lead him toward the nursery. Fraser was numb, frozen to the core.

“Sweetie, they'll come and get you as soon as they get her situated in ICU, okay, right now you need to concentrate on that baby.” Shirley gave him some tough advice. Fraser couldn't think anything but that it was all a mistake, that Meg would be fine with some rest.

_**ICU …** _

Fraser still couldn't believe it when Dr. Ryan said that Meg had slipped into a coma. It wasn't one she was going to wake up from. The ICU doctor was there to explain what was going on but the Mountie didn't hear any of it. He simply saw Meg lying in the hospital bed, hooked up to machines. He wanted to scoop her up and take her away from the pain. Ben couldn't fix it and that was a misery to him.

George Southerby tapped on the door. He was a distinguished looking man with steel gray hair and recessed, cobalt blue eyes.

“Hello, Constable Fraser.” He greeted the man carrying a Stetson. Ben turned at the sound of the older gentleman's rumbling voice.

“I'm Inspector General Southerby, pleasure to meet you, Margaret has spoken highly of you.” He shook Fraser's hand firmly but quickly.

“Inspector General, hello.” Ben said, his voice raw from trying not to cry.

“I came to see about Margaret.” He stood by her bedside, looking at the respirator, and various other monitors.

“The doctors say she's in a coma, she had a major stroke.” Ben felt his chest tighten as he spoke.

“Will she recover?” Southerby asked, concerned. All Ben could do was shake his head no.

“Her family is coming in before they, before .... ” Ben didn't finish, he couldn't. He knew how his father must have felt when his mother died suddenly and senselessly.

“I'm sorry to hear that, Margaret has always been an exemplary officer, I'll miss her dearly.” Southerby fiddled in his pockets, crinkling plastic peppermint papers. “How is the baby, Alice, I believe she planned on naming her.”

“She's healthy, a fighter, like her mother.” Fraser took Meg's hand. He'd spent the last twenty-four hours with one or the other of them.

“As part of the RCMP, Margaret had to fill out several papers, a will, insurance policies, that sort of thing.” Southerby began, hating to have to talk about Meg like she'd died already. Ben nodded, he'd had to fill out the same set of papers.

“Recently she changed the beneficiary of her insurance policy as well as her will.” The older officer pulled a sheaf of papers from the interior pocket of his trench coat. “You and the baby are joint beneficiaries of her insurance policy, she left everything to you, Constable Fraser.” Ben looked up from staring intently at her, surprised. He shouldn't have been. “I've also read your personnel file, Margaret asked me to when she first got to Ottawa. When she was put on medical restriction she asked me to again, she made me promise that if anything happened to her that I would offer you a transfer to my staff. I owe her so much more, she saved my life when she was a young officer just out of the Academy.” Southerby's voice became haunted.

“Meg has always been brave.” Fraser forced out. He'd lost count of the things he loved about her, now he would never get to tell her.

“The position is yours if you want it, you'll be able to raise your daughter here in Ottawa, near Margaret's family.” Southerby offered, sounding more resolute.

“I'll have to think about it, Inspector General, thank you kindly.” Fraser turned to the man. He saw the sincerity in his wrinkling features.

“You'll be more than welcome. Margaret was never wrong about people that I've ever found. She said that you were the kind of officer she wished she were; a real asset to the Force.” Southerby smiled, thinking back to how fiercely Meg had touted Fraser for a transfer.

“Thank you kindly, Inspector General Southerby, I'll let you know in a few days.” Fraser returned to Meg as the older officer walked out of the hospital room.

_**Present Day …..** _

“We buried Meg four days later, it rained for a week, as if weeping for our loss.” Fraser took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I'd been sitting in rapt attention, not speaking, through the whole story.

“You must miss her.” I breathed. He'd swept me up in the story before I knew what was happening. The morning fog had burnt off and the sun was beginning to peek over the evergreens shading the park.

“Every time I look into Alice's brown eyes.” Benton smiled, turning to me.

“Any man can father a child, but it takes a special man to be a daddy, that's exactly what you are.” I wanted to tell him how special he was for honoring his love's memory and her wishes.

“Hello.” Alice came skipping up the bench where we sat, an eager smile on her face. “Do you know my daddy?” She asked openly, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“We just met.” I answered.

“I've got the best daddy in the whole wide world.” She slid her arms around his neck and squeezed.

“I'd say you do, Sweetie. You're lucky to have him.” I hoped that she always thought of him as the best daddy in the whole wide world. Benton seemed devoted to her.

“Daddy says that I was Mommy's gift to him, that he couldn't make it without me.” She giggled, not really understanding the meaning behind the words.

“Are we still going to go see Mommy's grave this morning, I want to buy her a red rose.” Alice turned to Benton.

“Yes, we'll go as soon as you're ready.” Benton put his arm around her and pressed a kiss against her forehead.

“Let me go down the slide one more time, then I'll be ready to leave, okay.” Before he could say anything, she'd skipped off toward the slide and was climbing the ladder.

“Does she know that you aren't her biological father?” I asked, the words spilling from my mouth like drool. I could have slapped my own face.

“I've told her the story, as much of it as a six year old needs to hear anyway. I'm telling her more each time it comes up, what she can understand.” He stood up to stretch his legs.

“You've done a good job, Benton.” I said, wiping a tear from my own eyes. He was stronger than he gave himself credit for. The cell phone in my pocket brought me out of his spell.

“I'd better be going, I'm late.” I said as I silenced the annoying device. I had planned on meeting a friend for coffee an hour ago. Benton's story had captured my undivided attention for the last two hours.

“Have a good day.” Benton nodded, shoving his hands into his leather jacket pockets.

I started to walk away, then thought better of it. Turning, I pulled a business card out of my purse and wrote my home phone number on the back.

“I know we just met, but if you ever want to get coffee and talk, call me.” He'd been handed hundreds of phone numbers I'm sure. “Just to talk, I mean, you've already got your hands full with Alice.” I felt my face redden.

Benton smiled, amused at my embarrassment. I wanted to crawl into a nearby crawdad hole and pull it in after me.

“You've been a good listener, thank you.” He responded kindly. I waved and went on my way, his story still whirling around in my mind. I could only hope to love and be loved half as much as he loved Meg.

 **Author's Note:** Callum Keith Rennie “Edward Sullivan” _Case 39_ With Renee Zellweger  

 

 

 

 


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